And if They Give to You Your Wings
by SageMasterofSass
Summary: They'd taken the IV out of his arm but the plastic around his wrist betrayed him as another patient, another life waiting with all the rest on this unit to be snuffed out. He'd only gone in for the pain in his shoulder and he was going to walk out with a death certificate. Cancer of the bone, eating away at him for almost a year.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey! So this is a fic request that I received from a very lovely Anon. The song it's based off of is called Casimir Pulaski Day by Sufjan Stevens. Each chapter will be paired with a verse from the song, meaning in total there should be fourteen chapters.

On top of that, I'll probably throw out other songs you can listen to while reading. For the first chapter I've chosen We Remain as Two by Page France, which is where the title comes from.

* * *

_Goldenrod and the 4H stone_

_The things I brought you when I found out_

_You had cancer of the bone_

Killua clutched the flowers to his chest tightly, their yellow and gold petals the only color in the long, grey hall. It was still difficult to breathe, had been ever since yesterday when they'd gotten the news, like a weight had grabbed hold of his lungs and just wouldn't let go.

It eased a little when the nurse finally led him into the room, when Gon looked up from the book in his lap and smiled that beautiful, bright smile of his. He looked perfectly fine, tan and healthy with energy to spare. So unlike the three month sentence he'd been given.

"They're going to let me out tomorrow," Gon said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and kicking them restlessly. They'd taken the IV out of his arm but the plastic around his wrist betrayed him as another patient, another life waiting with all the rest on this unit to be snuffed out. He'd only gone in for the pain in his shoulder and he was going to walk out with a death certificate. Cancer of the bone, eating away at him for almost a year. Too late to stop, too late to treat.

"That's good," Killua responded, settling himself on the bed next to his friend. There were a lot of words he wanted to say, but none of them seemed to want to come forward. "That's good."

"Are those for me?" Gon gestured to the flowers curiously.

"Yeah, I picked them myself. They're called Goldenrods, I think they're supposed to be for health or something." He handed them over sheepishly, and then dug a small rock out of his pocket coated in swirling green paint. "And this. It's called a 4H stone. The lady who gave it to me says it should help you."

Gon took both eagerly, smelling the flowers before laying them gently across his lap and then turning the smooth stone over and over in his palm. When he glanced up his wide eyes were bright, that smile of his tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you, Killua!"

If there was one thing Killua was glad for in this moment, it was the fact that not even these circumstances could darken that smile.

* * *

Also have a request for me? Drop by my writing blog, Sagesroad on tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I had to get creative with this chapter because of the verse. Basically it says that the cancer patient's father drowns himself after hearing the bad news. But with Ging...? It really didn't fit. So I improvised.

Sorry, no song this chapter. But there will be one next time!

* * *

_Your father cried on the telephone_

_And he drove his car into the Navy yard_

_Just to prove that he was sorry_

_"Hello?"_

"Is this Ging?" Killua asked, phone smooshed precariously between his shoulder and face. In one hand he had a pen, and the other a pad. Tracking Ging down had taken the better part of two days and the paper was filled with various numbers and leads, most of which had taken him to dead ends and dial tones.

_"How did you get this number?"_

That was too defensive an answer to not be Ging. Maybe hard work did pay off. "So you are Ging then?"

_"Who the hell is this?"_

"I'm a friend of your son's."

_"What?"_

"I'm a friend of Gon's, and I have something really-"

_"Seriously, I don't have time for this."_

"Would you just listen for a second, I-"

_"No you listen, asshole! I don't have time for-"_

Killua snapped, dropping pen and paper in favor of grabbing the phone with both hands so he could yell into the receiver. "Your son has cancer goddammit!"

The other end of the line grew quiet, Killua's ragged breath the only sound between them.

Eventually Ging sighed, sounding utterly put out, _"Look kid if you're trying to get me to send money, I don't have any."_

Killua had to let the words sink in a moment, to register exactly what had just been said, but then he was screaming, "Drive yourself into a fucking lake and drown!" He slammed the phone back onto its hook so hard that it and the surrounding wall cracked. His chest seized, heart slamming wildly into his ribs while he tried to calm himself. It's not like he'd called Ging looking for money. He'd just hoped, for one wild second, that the man might have a little compassion and come see the child he'd abandoned. It had been Gon's dream for years to find his father, but thatdickwad couldn't even acknowledge the fact….

Killua forced himself to breathe out through his nose slowly, allowing the tension to ease from his shoulders and his head to sag. He could feel tears building behind his eyes but he held onto them, not now, not yet. Getting Ging to come see Gon surely would have made him happy, but fuck that and fuck Ging. Killua didn't need anyone else's help, he'd make this the best three months of Gon's life all on his own.

* * *

Please let me know what you guys think!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is a little happier than the others so enjoy it while it lasts. Even the song I picked, Salvation by Gabrielle Aplin, is fluffy instead of sad.

* * *

_In the morning, through the window shade_

_When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade_

_I could see what you were reading_

The first few weeks proved to be difficult. They shared an apartment uptown, just a block away from Kurapika and Leorio. Gon refused to let their friends know.

"Just for now," he said. "So they don't worry about me."

Killua had frowned but ultimately agreed to help keep his friend's secret.

They lived like normal, going to work, watching tv, cooking and cleaning, all the while tip-toeing around the elephant in the room. Killua attempted to bring it up on occasion, to suggest going on a trip, a vacation, something to make these months…memorable. But Gon shot him down every time.

So Killua had taken it upon himself to make Gon happy in smaller ways. Like now. Loading plate after plate of breakfast delicacies onto a silver tray and then adding a glass of orange juice to top it off. He didn't normally cook, preferred not to actually, but, well, special circumstances and all.

Balancing the tray carefully on his forearm, Killua padded towards the back of the apartment where the bedrooms were situated. Gon's door was open, warm morning light spilling across the wooden floors. When he peeked his head inside, Killua caught sight of the other boy stretched across his bed, downy comforter tangled around his waist. He was shirtless, propped up on his side facing away from Killua, an open book on the bed beside him. The entire room seemed to glow warmly, the light thick but soft, dipping along the jut of Gon's shoulder blades, down the curve of his back, across the broad expanse of his shoulders. He was beautiful, ethereal.

Then Killua realized what book he was reading.

It had been an impulse buy on his part, a few months earlier. He'd been window shopping, just looking around, when he'd found an old fairy tale book at the back of a second hand store. It was old and dusty but bound in leather with gold gilded pages. Really he'd meant it as a joke gift, a kind of jab at Gon's airheaded childishness, but Gon had latched onto the book with fervor, thanking Killua up and down and every which way for an entire week. It had traveled to and from the hospital with him, and it made Killua warm now, watching him continue to read it.

When he finally realized he was staring, Killua knocked lightly on the wood of the door, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, when Gon sat up and turned to look at him, "brought you breakfast."

Gon's smile was contagious. "Thanks," he said, closing the book and setting it aside. "I was just reading about these dragons. I bet you'd have liked them, Killua, they were so fierce!"

Handing the tray off, Killua settled himself on the floor beside Gon's bed and listened to him spin a story of fire and gold. Gon's passion, he figured, had to be the most beautiful thing about him.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So I don't actually know a whole lot about bone cancer, but I did a little research for this chapter in particular. Sorry if something's not accurate.

Go listen to Exit Music by Radiohead for this one, it's a very nice song.

* * *

_All the glory that the Lord has made_

_And the complications you could do without_

_When I kissed you on the mouth_

The first time they kissed was a stormy, dark day, huddled together on the sofa with a blanket between them and candlelight playing across their features. It was a long time coming, Killua figured, simply because it felt so natural, like they could have fallen into it the day they met.

It was the beginning of the second month, that day, and Gon's strength was beginning to fail. His shoulder seemed to bother him almost constantly, the joint sensitive and swollen, and he tired easily, never quite feeling one hundred percent anymore. Sometimes his breathing was labored, his heart too fast, and all Killua could do was rub small circles into his back until it passed.

It was moment's like these, nose to nose, laughing and happy, that Killua could almost forget about it all. When his lips brushed Gon's and he could feel the other boy's smile, when the space around them was warm and comfortable despite the distant rumble of thunder, the clash of lightning and the rattling of rain. They traded stories like coins, Gon's fingers finding Killua's under their blanket and tangling them together with languid ease.

But then Gon shifted, readjusting himself, and the blanket slipped down around his chest. He wore a comfortable tank top with thin straps that revealed the mass of purple and black bruising that was his shoulder. The doctors had said the tumor was wedged under his clavicle, spreading outwards to the scapula and into the humerus. They had said it was only a matter of time before each bone, made brittle with disease, simply snapped and broke into pieces. It was supposed to be painful, incredibly so, and Gon had been offered a stay in the hospital to help ease his discomfort. He'd turned it down of course, simply walked out with a strong painkiller prescription and went on his merry way.

Silence had fallen over them while Killua examined the injury, Gon's smile fading ever so slightly. In the candlelight he looked young, almost vulnerable.

Killua reached out with a trembling hand to touch the bruising, to map the bright scars like a constellation that bore only ill omens, Gon's skin hot and feverish under his fingertips. He glanced up, caught Gon's eyes and his wince of pain.

"We should probably tell everyone."

He was silent for a moment, Killua's other hand still held in his tight grip, before he nodded.

"Yeah, we should."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm not a very religious person, and I don't really see these characters as particularly religious either, so despite the verse this chapter has nothing to do with religion at all, and more to do with frustration. Also more characters!

The music note this time is for Laughing by Regina Spektor.

* * *

_Tuesday night at the Bible study_

_We lift our hands and pray over your body_

_But nothing ever happens_

The reveal was less than satisfactory. Their apartment was a small one, and with everyone crammed into the living room the air was hot and stifling, Gon's voice louder than necessary in the enclosed space.

Aunt Mito was the first to crack with a heart wrenching sob that she tried to stifle behind her hand. But there was no hiding the tears tracking down her face when she threw her arms around Gon, holding him tightly to her chest despite the wince he gave at her touch.

Kurapika and Leorio were calmer but just barely. The medical student looked pained, his face contorted as if he might actually be holding tears back and Kurapika had gone pale, eyes wide, body rigid.

Killua stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest and face carefully blank. He watched as Gon spoke to each person in turn, smiling, reassuring, and was glad to see that none of it was forced. Gon was sad, of course, and in pain (that very morning he'd been unable to move his bad arm at all, and now it hung limply at his side, useless) but his cheerfulness and optimism were genuine. How, Killua wasn't sure. He was dying for crying out loud. But he supposed that was just Gon in all his bright, brilliant glory and he was pretty sure he loved him for it.

"How long?" Kurapika eventually asked, tone heavy, and the whole room went silent with the question.

Gon looked sheepish, like the answer was in some way embarrassing. "Two more months," he said, rubbing absently at the back of his head.

Leorio broke the ensuing silence when the tears he'd been holding back finally broke forth. Kurapika was by his side in an instant, laying a comforting hand on his arm, but Leorio shook him off.

"That long," he ground out, wiping at his face furiously with the sleeve of his shirt. "That long and the doctors didn't even try to give you any treatments. They condemned you, Gon."

Killua finally pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against, inserting himself into the conversation smoothly. "They said it was too late to treat."

"It doesn't matter! They should have tried anyways!" Leorio's angry outburst was shocking, tears still dripping down his face and his hands closed into tight fists. His chest shook with sobs that never quite reached the open air and the strength of his grief was poignant and contagious. By his side Kurapika dropped his head, golden locks hiding his eyes even as he grabbed Leorio's wrist with strong, insistent fingers.

"We all know that, Leorio," he said, and his voice was quiet. "But you need to stop this, you're only making this harder than it needs to be."

Leorio snatched himself from Kurapika's grip violently, whirling to face the smaller man with an air of vehemence. "Harder than this needs to be?" he spat, all but bristling. "How can you say that? This is our friend's life we're talking about!"

Kurapika's head flew up, his entire body rocking with the motion, and vibrant red flashed dangerously across his eyes, a testament to his emotional state, chased closely by his normal slate grey. Before he could even open his mouth though, Mito was moving herself between them, face pinched in anger.

"Stop it both of you!"

There was a beat of silence, of stillness, and then Leorio was stalking towards the apartment door and flinging it open.

"The rest of you can sit around and mope, but I'm going to find something to…to help! A treatment!" The door slammed closed behind him with ringing finality.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey it's not midnight yet, I didn't miss my own deadline!

Ahh, sorry for lateness anyways. I wasn't feeling very well today. But here's the chapter! Have you noticed that they are getting progressively longer? I think the first one was only three, four hundred words. This one is over seven hundred. On top of that, the chapters are connecting less and less with their verses. Oops.

Music wise, try And the World Was Gone by Snow Ghosts.

* * *

_I remember at Michael's house_

_In the living room when you kissed my neck_

_And I almost touched your blouse_

Kurapika called them for a favor. Apparently Leorio hadn't left his house or spoken to anyone ever since he'd walked out of their apartment a few days ago, and the blonde was beginning to worry about him.

"Ha?" Killua said, slumped against the couch with his cell by his ear (he'd broken their home phone after that conversation with Ging). "Why don't you just go visit him then?"

"We'd just end up fighting again. Please, Killua?"

They ended up going.

Leorio lived in a small house next door to the university he was studying at with a few other students. When Gon and Killua showed up everyone else was out, apparently done putting up with Leorio's new found, and frankly quite frantic, love for research. Killua could see why as soon he opened the door; he reeked like he hadn't taken a shower in two weeks, he wore only a loose pair of pajama bottoms (and damn Killua had never wanted to see that much of Leorio, really and truly) and he was in such a state of disarray that it looked like he might actually be the one dying instead of Gon. Honestly though, Killua could relate. He'd been keeping himself together this long, but it was so hard, and he was so tired.

"Perfect timing!" Leorio crowed, ushering them into the house and pulling a shirt over his head at the same time.

"For?" Gon questioned, peeking over the edge of the giant parka Killua had insisted he wear. The winters were cold and unforgiving here, he wasn't about to risk Gon getting sick on top of everything else. Well…sicker.

"I wanted to examine the affected area, get a good idea of how fast this thing is spreading." Leorio babbled for a minute longer, moving around his room and collecting various instruments that he'd probably stolen from one of the lecture halls. It was mostly medical talk, things Killua really didn't care to follow, and he was ready to just let Leorio run himself out but Gon reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing him.

"If I let you, you have to promise me something."

The look Leorio gave him was suspicious but he agreed nonetheless.

"I want you to moderate yourself, okay?" His wide, earnest eyes and serious but gentle expression brokered no argument. "Trying to help me is one thing, running yourself into the ground is another. We're all worried about you. Go to class. Eat. Sleep. And then maybe do a little research on the side."

Leorio's shoulders slumped, his head sagging forward like he'd let out a breath that he'd been holding for too long. When he looked up again his eyes were glassy but he was smiling, a small fragile thing. "Yeah, alright," he said, voice rough.

The grin Gon gave by no means fit the situation, but it lightened the weight of the space around them anyways. "Great! Then I'll do the exam."

From where he was perched on the edge of Leorio's bed Killua gave a small cough. "Do I need to, uh, leave the room or….?"

"Nah," was Leorio's response, already turned back to his pile of medical paraphernalia. "I just need Gon to take off that jacket and his shirt."

Gon did so using a technique that involved moving only his good arm and maneuvering around his bad with slow, easy movements. It left Killua a little breathless, thinking about the pain he had to be in and how quickly he had adapted to make it manageable. It was nothing short of amazing, really. But then Gon turned around, baring his back, and Killua found he couldn't breathe at all anymore.

Only a few weeks ago Killua had walked into Gon's room and watched him read, watched the light play across his body and admired the shadows it created. There had been no physical evidence of his disease. Then there'd been the night of the storm, of their first kiss, and he'd seen how bruises had blossomed across Gon's skin in that brief time. Now, they had spread down across his shoulder blade, inky shadows that reached to take over more and more of the body they grew on. His entire shoulder was dark, covered almost completely from throat to deltoid in the swollen, painful tissue, and it splattered down towards his ribs in uneven splotches, appearing first and foremost where the bone was closest to skin. It was spreading fast, too fast.

Leorio conducted his exam and Killua shook silently where he sat.

That night, after they'd left Leorio's house, after they'd made him promise to take care of himself and made him eat, Killua curled up against Gon's back and pressed his palms into his bare stomach to feel him breathe. He kissed along Gon's spine, mindful of the bruising, and then up to the back of his neck, lingering there until he felt tears prick at his eyes.

Gon who had allowed it all in silence, wound their fingers together and pulled Killua's arms tighter around himself.

It was the first time Killua allowed himself to cry since Gon had been diagnosed.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This one hurt to write. A lot. Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour fits it pretty well.

In other news, I'm going to be moving at the end of the week so I may have to put the story on a couple days hiatus because of that. It'll probably start after I update Thursday and last until the next Monday, just so that I have time to get settled and everything. So that's just a heads up!

* * *

_In the morning at the top of the stairs_

_When your father found out what we did that night_

_And you told me you were scared_

Aunt Mito stopped by the next day, early in the morning when both Gon and Killua were still stumbling around in their pajamas. It wasn't uncommon, her presence in their apartment. Since the announcement she'd been revolving around them, cooking and cleaning and trying to pamper them both. It was nice.

This morning, however, Mito cornered Killua in the kitchen when he was trying to rummage up some breakfast.

"So," she started as Killua opened the fridge. He made a noise to indicate he'd heard her, not quite up to talking yet.

"You slept in Gon's room last night." It wasn't a question but a statement, a fact. Killua grunted again as he poured milk over his bowl of cereal. Not like he was trying to keep the recent developments of his and Gon's relationship a secret or anything. What would the point be?

Mito, apparently fed up with the caveman-eque answers she was getting snapped Killua's name and then grabbed his arm. He turned to face her and instantly her features and her grip softened.

"I don't mean to pry," she sighed, dropping her hand. "I just worry about you boys."

Killua scoffed lightly, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms. "What's there to worry about?" The worst had already happened, not a whole lot else could go wrong. Besides, being together made them both happy, what was wrong with that?

There was a beat of silence before Mito responded. "I don't think you've thought this situation through is all."

"I know he's dying," was Killua's response, less harsh now. "But that doesn't change the way I feel about him."

Again there was a moment of quiet and then Mito was stepping forward, pulling Killua into an embrace. He wasn't short enough that she could tuck his head under her chin anymore but it didn't stop him from melting into it ever so slightly, her hands strong and warm on his back.

"It's going to hurt so much worse now," she murmured.

Killua settled his chin on her shoulder. "Yeah," he sighed. "But I think it's worth it."

"You know I heard you two," Gon said later when they were splayed out on the sofa together. They were watching reruns of some old sitcom but neither was really paying attention. "You and Aunt Mito were talking about me."

"We were," was Killua's response, running his fingers through Gon's hair. The other boy was on top of him, cheek pressed to Killua's chest and their legs tangled together under a heavy blanket. Killua repeated the movement, his other hand cold where he held an ice pack to Gon's shoulder. The bones were finally breaking, and though Gon had taken his pain medication it wasn't helping nearly enough.

The hushed sound of the tv was the only thing between them for a while. But then Gon shifted, tucking one hand under his chin and looking up at Killua through thick lashes. An unusual frown had painted itself across his lips and Killua felt the urge to brush it away with his fingertips, but he didn't, simply watched and waited until Gon finally spoke.

When he did his voice was soft, uncharacteristically so. "I don't want to die."

Killua felt something soft and brittle inside him break, snapping like Gon's fragile bones, never to be fixed. "I know," he managed to get out around the lump in his throat.

"I don't want to hurt you and everyone else," Gon continued, tears collecting slowly in the corners of his eyes. Normally so bright and expressive, now they were dull. "I think…I think I was in denial. And then last night, and this morning and it finally hit me and I just….just-" He couldn't finish the sentence, cut off by a sob that wrenched itself from his chest, tears spilling freely down his cheeks now.

Killua swallowed thickly, fighting his own tears, and wrapped both his arms around Gon's frame, ice pack forgotten. There was nothing he could say to that, no response he had ready. He'd assumed Gon was just handling it well, as well as anyone could handle the knowledge of their own death anyways, but apparently he'd been wrong.

"I'm scared, Killua," Gon choked out around his sobs, fingers curling into claws in the fabric of Killua's shirt. "I'm so scared, I don't want to die."

Unable to stop himself from crying any longer, Killua let out a small, broken noise and buried his face in Gon's hair, grip too tight on the other boy. They stayed like that for a long time, grasping at each other as if to hold themselves together, until Killua pulled back and placed kisses along Gon's face and hands, and Gon, grief-stricken, fell asleep under the attention.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Whoop. Better late than never, right? Sorry about that, I've been having a bunch of issues with the move, including but not limited to; my truck breaking down, not having enough boxes, and rainstorms that have prevented me from moving my trailer. I also don't have any music for this chapter. Are you going to start throwing rotten fruit at me yet?

On a similar note, this is the last chapter I'm going to post before going on hiatus!

But on to information about the actual chapter! It's a little on the short side but it's pretty important. It may seem like the lyrics don't really fit but they do. The imagery it gives you is all about trying to appear okay but not actually being so okay under it all.

* * *

_All the glory when you ran outside_

_With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied_

_And you told me not to follow you_

As Gon's physical strength fled, his emotional strength returned.

It was a slow, painful process that cost Killua sleep and left a bad taste in his mouth.

Immediately after his breakdown on the couch, Gon became stuck in the initial shock of the situation, still feeling like the world has simply crashed down around his ears and there was nothing he could do but lay under the rubble and wait for death. It made him quiet, unreachable sometimes as he would disappear into his own mind for hours on end, searching for whatever it was he needed to keep from falling apart.

Killua tried to be there for him, curled against his back at night and always close enough to touch during the day. And though Gon went through the motions with him, eating, sleeping, taking his medication, he wasn't really there for it all.

This lasted for three days, but on the morning of the fourth Killua could tell something within Gon had shifted. He awoke to Gon pressing soft kisses to his lips, a warm hand tracing the curve of his hip and when he finally blinked open his eyes Gon gave him that dazzling smile that always reminded him of the sun and warm Spring days. It wasn't quite the same, morphed a little and jagged around the edges. But it was enough.

"Killua, do you love me?" Gon asked sleepily, a whisper against Killua's lips, the fingers on his hip drawing delicate designs.

"Of course," Killua breathed back, not even thinking about his response before it was in the space between him.

"I'm glad. I love you too." There was a pause then, in which he seemed to gather himself and retreat from Killua ever so slightly. "But I wanna ask you something."

The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and everything felt close and intimate. "Anything."

"You're not planning on killing yourself after I die, are you?" It was blunt, straightforward as Gon ever was and left Killua reeling a little.

Of course he'd considered it, it'd be stupid to lie about that. Gon was….Gon was everything. He'd taken Killua out of an abusive household and shown him the world, made him smile, made him laugh, given him reason to look forward to the future instead of hanging his head in the hopes of never having to face it. Gon was his first and best friend, his first and only love. And all of that was being ripped violently from his grip, sand falling between his fingers while he tried desperately to hold onto it a bit longer. Of course he'd considered it.

"I thought about it," Killua eventually answered, voice somber, the light heartedness he'd woken to fading as early morning light began to peek from behind the curtains.

Gon's reaction was instantaneous; he jumped up, holding his weight on his good arm to lean over Killua with possibly one of the saddest expressions of pain and determination on his face. "Don't," he said, and the position had to be uncomfortable for him, his bad arm curled limply against Killua's stomach. "It's going to beat me, this disease. But I don't want it to beat you too. You've gotta live, okay? For me."

_Oh,_ Killua thought. _That's how he's going to deal with it._ But he reached up anyways to cup Gon's face, to pull him down for a kiss and to mumble "Okay," against his lips.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hey, guess who's back from xir move? Sorry it took me longer than expected. But I'm here! And after this there are only five more chapters. Whoo.

I don't have a song for this but I'll be sure to find one for tomorrow's.

* * *

_Sunday night when I cleaned the house_

_I find the card where you wrote it out_

_With the pictures of your mother_

Gon was hospitalized during the first week of his last month. The cancer had spread to his spine, was keeping him from holding himself straight, from walking and moving with the ease that he once had. It was painful to watch him, at one point in time so graceful and fluid, forever in movement, now awkward and stilted.

He hadn't wanted to go. Of course he hadn't, it marked the end of the line for him, the last place he'd ever be. It had taken Killua begging to finally get him there, to get him sedated and comfortable, plastic around his wrist and the IV in place once more.

Honestly Killua didn't want him there anymore than Gon did. Gon was a free spirit, he needed to be out and about, walking the streets and sniffing out adventure, speaking with his hands and laughing loud enough that it brought smiles to strangers' faces. But Killua didn't want to see him in pain anymore, didn't want to see his wince whenever he accidently brushed up against something, the crooked way he held his shoulders when everything started throbbing, the dead weight of his bad arm hanging by his side. Seeing his small form in a hospital bed wasn't much better, skin dark against the stark white sheets, but at least his face was relaxed, his limbs limp, the tension bled out of his body by a steady drip of morphine. At least here he was free of pain.

Killua returned home only when several nurses shooed him out of Gon's room.

It had grown dark by the time he unlocked the apartment door, and only heavy grey shadows awaited him inside. He didn't bother turning any lights on, instead moving through the rooms by memory until he got to Gon's. For the past month or so he'd been sleeping in here, his clothes were on the floor and his pillow on the bed. But there was something on nightstand, something he hadn't noticed before. He was not sure why his gaze was drawn to it now of all times. It was unobtrusive, plain. Just a photo album with a creased spine.

Killua picked it up anyways and flipped through the first few pages. He stopped when he realized that the pictures were accompanied with words. Small things in Gon's messy scrawl, little notes to the people in each photograph, memories, reminders, pieces of his life left behind on the smooth pages.

Next to picture of Gon and Mito sprawled together on a checkered blanket, their hair windswept and faces bright- Do you remember? You made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and the geese down by the lake stole them right out of our hands! You were so mad but I couldn't stop laughing.

Another next to a snapshot of Kurapika, Leorio, Killua and Gon all squeezed together in a tiny photo booth, Leorio's face of outrage captured perfectly just as Kurapika elbowed him in the ribs- I had to buy Leorio a smoothie because of the bruise Kurapika left. Still, it was a fun day. We went to see How to Train Your Dragon together. I loved hanging out as a group, we really felt like a family, you know?

Realization dawned on Killua and he leafed through the rest of the pages, skimming each mini story there until he stopped at a picture that had been taken only a few weeks ago. It had been a good day, bright and sunny, and Gon had wanted to leave the apartment and enjoy the fresh air. Killua had agreed and they'd walked to the park hand in hand. While they were there Gon had ambushed him, leaning in to kiss Killua's cheek just as Gon snapped a picture on his phone. In it they were both bundled up from the cold, scarves tucked around their necks, cheeks bitten red by the wind and the expression on Killua's face was that of happiness. He'd been mid-laugh at the time, eyes soft, lips pulled up at the corners.

Next to it Gon had written- If I had the chance to relive any day in my life, it would probably be this one. I think it was one of the only days I got to be with you AND forget about the cancer. I love you so much, Killua, and I'm so glad we got to spend these three months together. I'm sorry it's been so painful for us both.

There was more, a whole page more, but Killua didn't read it.

The album wasn't just for him of course, it was for everyone Gon had ever loved, a keepsake, a remembrance. He'd immortalized himself there, on that paper, in memories and words that others could carry with them the rest of their lives. But it felt too soon. The words rang with finality, as if Gon had already passed away, days, weeks, months, years ago. So Killua closed it and set it down on the nightstand once more, to be opened when it was really needed.

* * *

Want me to write for you too? Send me a request at Sagesroad on tumblr.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm gonna go ahead and give everyone a warning here; next chapter is it. The one. When Gon finally slips through Killua's fingers for good. I can assure you I'm going to cry like a small child.

Try What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie. 'Love is watching someone die'

* * *

_On the floor at the great divide_

_With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied_

_I am crying in the bathroom_

Killua got the call a week later, lying in bed with a book propped up against his chest. He was tired, desperately so, in equal measure from both the emotional and the physical strain visiting the hospital every day brought. But he couldn't sleep. And he certainly couldn't read, the letters floating off the page tauntingly, daring him to try and escape reality through them when it was obviously impossible.

But his phone rang and he recognized the hospital number so of course he answered it. The news? Gon wasn't expected to make it through the night.

He'd been expecting this for a while. As soon as Gon had entered the hospital he'd started declining, unable to keep most of his food down, to even stand on his own any longer , pale and tired and gaunt. Killua had left his room several hours earlier with a heavy heart and dragging footsteps.

The hospital was willing to give him special clearance. Just for tonight. Just until he passed. Killua wasn't sure whether he would have preferred to simply learn of it in the morning, a message on his phone of his best friend's, his lover's, death, because being there was going to be so much more painful. But then he remembered all the choices he'd made these past months, the decisions that hurt but were for the best, and knew that he was going to make one more tonight, even if they said Gon was asleep. Even if they said he would simply not awaken. Killua was going to be there.

He packed a small bag mechanically and then walked the few short blocks to the hospital, through the waiting room, down the sterile white hallways he was beginning to know. He thought of goldenrods and a 4h stone, bright in his mind's eye against the all consuming blandness.

Gon's room was dark, the only light leaking in from the hallway. The monitors by his bedside beeped and churned quietly, proof of life but just barely. In the grayness Killua could just make out Gon's features, relaxed but pale. He'd never gone through chemo ('they condemned him' Leorio had said) so he still had his hair, but it was unwashed and tangled, dull in the glare of the florescent lights. It was such a contrast to their first visit here; Gon sitting on the bed, legs swinging, smile bright, skin tan and healthy and the sun shining on him and him alone.

Killua took his customary seat by the bed and set his bag on the floor. From one unopened corner peeked the edge of the photo album Gon had made. He didn't remember packing it, but he pulled it out anyways, settling back in his chair with the memories of a life almost gone.

It was too much.

The still, unmoving Gon on the bed before him no longer matched the vibrant boy in the pictures. Killua snapped the book closed with too much force and it slipped from his fingers as he folded into himself, arms crossed against his stomach, forehead against his knees. And he cried.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I told you I'd cry like a small child, and guess what? I did. A lot.

Listen to You by Keaton Henson if you dare. It's heart wrenching. 'If you must die sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part.'

* * *

_In the morning when you finally go_

_And the nurse runs in with her head hung low_

_And the cardinal hits the window_

The first Monday of March bloomed with grey skies and a dense fog that chilled everything it touched. Killua woke with a start, blue eyes wide as he jerked himself up right. It took a moment for his surroundings to register, for the colorless room and the steady beeping to make sense in his cloudy mind.

He must have fallen asleep he realized, glancing down at where his arms were still crossed on the hospital bed, one of Gon's hands held in his own.

Gon…

When Killua looked up and was greeted with Gon's bright smile he thought surely it must have been a dream. Morning light, pastel and weak as it filtered through the fog, shone in through the single window. Gon wasn't supposed to have made it through the night…and yet?

"Morning sleepy head," Gon rasped, and the pain in his voice derailed any fantasies Killua might have held about dreams or miraculous recoveries. Suddenly his smile didn't appear quite so bright, more ragged and brittle, a grimace more than anything.

"You," Killua started, but he was unable to finish. His gaze skirted over Gon, his tightly drawn face, his attempt at a smile, and then down to where his IV with its morphine drip should have been attached. The needle had been ripped out, set aside on the bed to pool whatever concoction of medication the doctors had prescribed onto the sheets. Distantly he was surprised no nurses had come to bitch him out yet.

Gon followed his gaze mutely, and then let out a strangled kind of laugh. "Oh," he sighed. "I didn't want to be drugged. You know, when I went. Figured I'd only get one chance to die so I better experience it to the fullest."

That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard, Killua thought, but the words that came out of his mouth were, "You weren't supposed to wake up."

Gon's eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping his lips as he squeezed Killua's hand gently. It took him a moment to respond, as if the words he'd already spoken had drained him. "Well, it won't be long now I can tell you that," he murmured.

It was silent after that, Killua staring at the place where they were joined intently, Gon breathing shallowly. At some point he must have talked one of the nurses into propping his bed up because he was in a sitting position, a pillow at his lower back and another behind his head.

When Killua looked up again Gon's eyes were open, watching him. They were murky with pain but the fear and sadness he'd carried before had vanished.

"You brought the photo album," he said, a fact and not a question.

Killua nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

"I'm glad you found it." Gon's gaze shifted away, his head lolling slightly against the pillows, but he wasn't staring at anything anyone else could see. "I want you to keep the original. Make copies for everyone else, so that I can be with all of you."

Something massive was rising in Killua chest, up into his lungs, his throat, stopping his breath. He swallowed several times, to try and clear it, and eventually choked out, "It's really beautiful."

Gon physically seemed to pull his attention away from whatever he'd been staring at, eyes flickering down.

"Killua," he asked almost breathlessly, "Will you kiss me?"

It was enough of a non-sequitur that Killua's breath came rushing back to him, making him dizzy and light headed. The weight didn't clear, but it had moved enough that Killua was able to smile shakily, to lean across the bed and press his lips chastely to Gon's. He cupped Gon's face in his free hand, fingers trembling. A single tear fought its way free and slipped down his cheek, but when he pulled back, resting his forehead against Gon's, breathing unsteady, Gon had the tact not to mention it.

"Ready?" Gon whispered, lips brushing Killua's with the movement. His smile was gentle, the grip on Killua's hand equally so.

Killua's breath stuttered in his chest, the weight so heavy now he thought surely it'd drag him to the ground and suffocate him there.

"Never," he whispered in reply, despite the weight, despite the broken quality of his voice and the way his entire body was racked with tremor after tremor.

Gon's eyes closed, still smiling, peaceful even in his pain, relaxed, and Killua felt a soft breath against his lips and then the heart monitor was piercing through it all, a flat, steady wail that only made Killua tense, gripping Gon's hand tighter, holding his face closer, staring fixedly as if maybe those eyes might flutter open and maybe those lips might move and maybe his nose would crinkle when he smiled and he'd squeeze Killua's hand back and he'd laugh and he'd kiss Killua and call him a weirdo and his skin would be warm and soft and tan and he'd glow like he himself was the sun, born to bring light everywhere he went, to brighten every life he touched, and they'd go home together and he'd dance through the mist and the fog because he loved every kind of weather and Killua would be left to laugh and try to catch up with him and when they got home they'd fall onto the couch together and cuddle and wrap themselves in blankets and drink hot chocolate and they could do all of that and more, so much more maybe if he'd just open those eyes and move those lips and crinkle that nose when he smiled…

A hand fell on Killua's shoulder.

Everything was muffled, muddled, but he realized vaguely that someone was guiding him away from the bed, away from Gon, pushing him gently into a chair. Not his chair. Not the one he should be in, there next to his best friend and his lover and his everything. This one was by the window.

Killua stared out at the mist, the flat line ringing his ears. He was the only one to notice a bright red cardinal, confused and lost, fly headlong into the glass pane, its neck breaking, blood speckling its feathers, dead before it hit the ground.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Now that I've broken Killua into thousands of tiny, brittle fragments I should probably put him back together again, huh?

Whispers by Dave Baxter is a nice fit for this chapter. Very bittersweet.

* * *

_In the morning in the winter shade_

_On the first of March, on the holiday_

_I thought I saw you breathing_

_._

One year later

.

Shivering, Killua crouched in front of the gravestone and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. This winter had been even more bitter than the last, and it was still hanging heavy around the city despite the promise of Spring in the green grass and the blooming flowers.

The wind cut straight through Killua and he shivered again, but he didn't hesitate to reach one pale hand out and lay it on the stone. It was freezing beneath his fingertips, familiar, traced countless times with hands steady and not, while crying, while apologizing, while angry. He was none of those things now.

"I'm leaving in the fall," he told it, pulling his scarf down so that his words became solid in the air. "Not forever, of course. But there's this school, the one I told you about, in France. They're giving me a scholarship."

The stone did not answer, but Killua wasn't expecting it to. He sat back on his heels, drawing his touch away, and stared at the flowers he'd brought with him, a bouquet of bursting goldenrods tied together with a single crimson ribbon. There were others as well, from past visits, old and withering and waiting to be picked up by the groundskeeper. They sat off to the side, discarded and forgotten.

He crossed his arms over his knees and sighed up at the cold blue sky. "I'll be back, eventually. I think I want to study photography. Spent so long with that album you made that I can't seem to leave the idea alone."

The plot Killua and Mito had chosen for Gon was next to an old oak tree. It grew more outwards, with wide, sweeping branches, than it did up, and at the moment it was mostly bare. Spring had left her mark in the form of buds and tiny, green leaves that shivered in the wind though, hope for the future. In the summer the tree was thick with life and provided shade over Gon's final resting place, a quiet retrieve Killua could escape to during his visits.

"I wonder what you would have studied," he asked aimlessly, still staring up at the clattering branches and the sky above. He already knew what he'd see if he looked down; a cold, lifeless rock with equally cold lifeless words carved into it.

_Gon Freeces_

_May 5th, 1994 – March 2nd 2013_

_And over the mountains and over the seas, under the starry night skies and breathing nature in his lungs, he sleeps._

The quote had come from the fairytale book Killua had bought Gon a year and a half ago. He'd found it tucked away in a corner of their apartment, the page bookmarked and the sentence underlined like Gon had read it and simply fallen in love with the prose. Mito had thought it poetic to put it on his grave. Killua had thought it painful.

Standing slowly he sighed, brushing one last touch against the top of the gravestone before he turned to leave. He visited often enough, once a week if he could manage it, and typically he stayed longer, simply speaking to the weeds and the tree and those words on rock. But today it felt wrong to be here, despite the anniversary. Like out of all the days of the year this was the one Gon would have pushed him the most to get out, to laugh, the leave the past behind and move on.

Killua stuffed his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. He glanced back over his shoulder, at the big oak tree and the small headstone, and for just a moment he thought he saw something, a gleaming, shimmering person, sitting cross legged in the grass, smiling brightly and waving goodbye as if he hadn't already done that a year ago. It was gone in a blink, borne away on the wind and the frigid air that promised heat to come.

_"Ready?"_

_"Never."_

A faint smile cracked Killua's lips, small and painful, and he waved in return before exiting the cemetery and starting the trek home.


End file.
